


To Ruin

by h0neybeebear



Series: Unbroken [3]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dom/sub, F/F, Slow Burn, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-18 05:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0neybeebear/pseuds/h0neybeebear
Summary: But I am a mother.I am a caretaker.My responsibilities lie far beyond myself and at the moment, her well being and state of mind are my utmost concern.So I wait.





	1. Chapter 1

_ ~~~Olivia~~~ _

The clock on the bedside table reads 12:46 am.

 A soft pattering of rain tinkles against the window, a low beat to fill the silence. 

 In the darkness, she lies stretched out on the bed, her delicate wrists red and raw from pulling against the restraints, her ankles much the same. At present, she lies on her face, her body rigid, face turned away from me.

 It hurts me to see her this way, though I know I can't allow the situation to change until she releases. She has been there for over an hour and a part of me is burning with disappointment, my patience bare and thin. 

 But I am a mother. 

 I am a caretaker. 

 My responsibilities lie far beyond myself and at the moment, her well being and state of mind are my utmost concern. 

 Ten minutes have passed since I took a seat in the chair several feet away from her. I'm allowing her to think, allowing myself to breath.

 My palm still burns, red and tingling. 

 She took two dozens spankings before she burst out into an angry tirade, jarring against the bed and restraints like a fish caught on a hook. Though she cried, we're far from accomplishing what I set out to do. In fact, we’re quite the opposite.

 Times like this remind me that Amanda's control issues still guide her. She's angry because she didn't ask for this; because I ordered her to strip and bend over. She's angry because she doesn't see the need for this, but I do. Self care and soul searching are never easy tasks and I've learned that Amanda often waits to come to me until she's all but bursting and spiraling. She needs to learn to trust me even when she can't understand my actions immediately. She needs to let me take care of her before the discomfort becomes unbearable.

 So I wait. 

 I watch her try to remain rigid, but I can see the slightest squirm working through her arms and legs. Her legs are clenched together, her bare, reddened ass taut. She refuses to look at me.

 A second glance at the clock tells me that fifteen minutes have passed now. 

 I massage my right palm and stretch out my fingers as the pulsing burn begins to recede. I know she must still be aching.

  _Come on, Amanda...Just let go…_

 As if she hears my thoughts, she huffs out a breath loud enough for me to note the rebellion lacing her exhale. 

 I clench my jaw and lower my eyes from her, working to extend my patience a little further. This could potentially be a very long night and I've most certainly dealt with more consternating situations. I've dealt with a 2 year old on a sugar rush after a 16 hour shift….This should be nothing to me…. But it’s never nothing with the person you love….

 I lift my eyes, calming the waves of frustration in my chest.

 “Look at me.” I order, softly.

 She quiets, her body going slack for a moment. Her ribcage expands sharply but she doesn't turn her head.

 I rise from the chair and walk slowly towards her. 

 My hand itches to punish her again, but I gather my self control. I can't act out of irritation or frustration, even if it is my first instinct. I need to give her what she needs, whether it's what she wants or not. 

 “Look at me, Amanda.” I murmur once more, sitting down at the edge of the bed. 

 I reach out to touch her back, petting over soft strands of golden hair tangled between her shoulder blades. I can feel the perspiration lining her skin, beading across her spine with the exertion of fighting me. She stiffens beneath my fingers but I don't allow it to have too much affect on me. Every action she makes is intentional, and I won't allow her to manipulate me into pitying her.

 “If you don't look at me, I'll go straight to the belt.” 

 The threat makes her whimper quietly and finally, her head shifts, her face turning towards me. Her cheeks are flushed and shining with tears and perspiration. Her blue eyes are sharp in the low lighting, standing out against the red rimming her lids. Her jaw is clenched but her chin and lips tremble. 

 I brush her bangs back from her eyes, feeling how hot her forehead is from her attempts to escape the restraints and the lick of my hand.

 “You're not getting up from this bed until you release.” I tell her softly.

 Her glistening eyes dart away from mine, her brows drawing together.

 “I don't need to. I told you.” She returns, her tone raspy but insistent.

 “You need to learn to trust me further than your own desires.” I say, ignoring her denial. “You trust me to take care of you but only at your own say so.”

 “Because it's _my_ body.” 

 She whips her head away from me, but I don't miss the angry, confused tears glazing her eyes. It pains my heart sharply but it doesn't deter me. 

 “You have a safe word.” I remind her.

 She stares at the opposite wall, reticent and rigid. I give her half a minute to contemplate her actions before I turn away, my gentle touch slipping from her back. I've given her enough time to think about whether she wants to trust me or whether she wants to rebel. I've even given her time to think about if she wants to end the evening. 

 “Ok, enough is enough.” I say, rubbing my palms over my knees before pushing up from the bed.

 Her hesitant gaze flashes back to me as I loom over her and begin to quickly unbutton my shirt. The material is heavy against my heated flesh and I want her to realize how deeply I’m committed to this evening. She won’t be leaving this room until she’s bruised and broken. 

 She watches me, blinking quickly from beneath a fringe of blonde hair, and when I yank my shirt off my shoulders and drag it off my arms, I can see her begin to squirm against the restraints. Her light brows furrow, her lips trembling. She knows what’s coming.

 I turn away from her, bolstering authority into my stance as I cross to the dresser. The mirror hanging above it reflects my darkened, austere expression back at me, the intensity in my own eyes almost too sharp to look at and I glance away. My gaze falls to the tool on the dresser top. 

 I drag my fingers slowly over the handle of the paddle, the wood smooth against my skin. My grip around it sears determination into my bloodstream. 

 When I glance up at the mirror again, I can see her staring at me, her eyes blinking rapidly against a sheen of tears.

 “Olivia, please…” She whines, pulling against her bindings once more. The head of the bed rattles with her efforts but I have made more than certain that she can't break free.

 I drag the paddle from the dresser and turn towards her, fixing her with sharp gaze as I cross back towards her. 

 She pants loudly, digging her face into the pillow to hide the flush on her cheeks and the tears in her eyes. I don't want her to hide those things from me. I don't want her to be ashamed and I have reinforced that fact many times, but still I see the same humiliation in her gaze, even in the safety of my lap.

 I reach the edge of the bed and stand over her squirming body, waiting out her weak, vain fighting.

 “Liv, please….” She groans long into the pillow, her tone muffled.

 “Please, what?” I encourage.

 Even if I won't acquiesce to what she wants, I still desire her every thought. Every confession she spills from her cherry lips is one step closer to her complete and utter trust.

 She huffs against the pillow, her body arching and twisting off in the bed in agony, but the action only serves to lift her reddened ass closer to me. 

 I lean in, pushing one knee onto the bed just beneath her hips to keep them elevated. I lay the flat of the paddle against her flesh, rubbing the rough surface over her already throbbing flesh.

 “Tell me.” I murmur. “Tell me what you think you want.”

 I feel her stomach clenching and quivering against my thigh and she groans once more.

 “I don't want it.” She whispers from between clenched teeth.

 “I know.” I return, lifting my other hand to touch her back, running my fingers over the dip of her spine.

 “Please, Liv.” She begs, her voice thick.

 “I told you you're not getting up from this bed.” I remind her firmly, pressing the paddle harder against her.

 “Fuck, please…” Her pleas dwindle as she tucks her face deeper into the pillow. “Please, it hurts so much…”

 “That's the point.” I tell her, softly. “And it's going to keep hurting until you accept it.”

 She releases a low growl, her feet kicking against the restraints. Her body nearly flips off my leg and I grab her hip, pulling her close in a sharp, firm motion. 

 “No, no -” She begins to protest, but I cut her off quickly with a single, hard spanking. 

 The sound of it cracks through the air and she gasps, her body seizing against me. A cry filters from between her lips as the red blooms across her buttocks. 

 Squeezing her hip, I hold her steady to punish her once more. This time, I don't let her cry and thrash afterwards. I bring the paddle down again sharply, burning five spankings into her flesh one after the other. 

 She must learn that I can't always coddle her. I cannot let her continuously stray to her comfort zone, never trusting me to take her to where she needs to be. Her desires mean so much to me, but her emotional well being means more.

 She's shocked, her body rigid in pain by the time the fifth spanking falls. I can hear her releasing choked, halting pants and I slide my hand from her back to one aching buttock. I massage the flesh slowly in my fingers, listening to her gasp and grope for control.

 “You can't always have what you want, Amanda.” I murmur quietly. 

 She begins to sniffle, her sides expanding sharply against me and I hope for a moment that she might have reached her breaking point, but the silence stretches. 

 I rub her back and punished ass, watching the back of her head, listening for her repentant sobs, but I'm greeted by angry sniffles and nothing more. She knows what I need to hear and she purposefully gives me this rebellious display.

 “You're making me do this, Amanda.” I say at last, my voice stiff with disappointment.

 I want her trust and devotion so deeply that it is like an aching cavern inside of me. The constant desire is consuming, and her refusal devastating. 

 I reassert my grip on her hip and she whines, attempting to pull away from me, but I force her back. I hardly wait to have her firmly in place before I crack the paddle down. 

 “Nnngggg….” She groans, arching against me.

 I let the burn between each one last longer than before. I let the seconds be filled with her moans and protests, let her feel each punishment as it's own decisive sting.

 She begins to sob, her tone filled with distraught frustration as she struggles against me, her bare feet kicking back and forth against the sheets. Her flailing causes me to nearly lose my grip on her and I grit my teeth, flexing my fingers about the handle of the paddle.

 My palms are sweating, my entire body awash in the heat of the moment - both frustrated and aroused. My heart slams against my ribs to the tune of my desire, the sound of my body screaming for her submission. Her unyielding efforts to escape me only burns hotter need into my bloodstream, setting my sex afire between my legs. I throb so wantonly for her that tears prick my eyes.

 Finally, I pull my thigh from beneath her and reassert the pressure of it to her lower back, pinning her to the mattress with the weight of my aching body.

 We're both panting, loud raspy breaths that are almost one as I lean over her, bracing my free hand on her hip. I feel her buck beneath me, but my weight and my strength overpowers her petite body.

 Gripping her hip with fingers that desperately want to tremble, I swallow against the dryness of my tongue to reprimand her.

 “You need to stop fighting, Amanda.”

 “Fuck you…” She moans, lapsing against the sheets.

 “That's not a safeword.” I pant, huskily, tossing a glance at the back of her disheveled head.

 “Fuck. You.” She hisses again through clenched teeth, igniting another fiery path of indignation across my chest.

 I turn back to her taut ass, squeezing the paddle hard enough to bleach my knuckles.

  _Crack!_

 I punish her hard without remorse, dragging a low moan from her lips. My chest aches from her resistance and her spiteful words and I want her to know I'm disappointed. 

 Loosening the restraint of my hand, I give her the full strength of my arm, spanking her half a dozen times before she breaks into disjointed, angry epitaphs once more.

 “Fuck you, fuck you so hard…” She curses, before her swearing dwindles into raspy pants. Her legs kick weakly as she buries her face in the pillow.

 “You want me to get the belt?” I ask, evenly, glancing back at her blonde head once more.

 I press the paddle against one inflamed cheek, warning her of the encroaching punishment. When she doesn't reply, I swat her hard, jarring her flesh with the impact.

 I realize now that this isn't going to be a simple, one night affair. I'm going to have to break through the brick wall of her resistance before I can care for the tender creature residing behind the layers upon layers of emotional armor. But I will not be deterred. 

 “Do you want the the belt?” I repeat.

 Silence. 

 She barely even moves.

 I give her exactly ten seconds to answer me before I strike her again, three times in quick succession before she finally cries out.

 “No, no… I don't!” She breathes, vehemently, giving a sharp kick against the restraints.

 “Good.” I murmur, “Don't make me paddle you again just for not answering me.”

 “Whatever.” She grinds out, a tremble lying just beneath the layer of sarcasm.

 But I don't care whether this is bravado or not. She's hiding from me again, in the worst possible way. All she has to do is say her safeword, but instead she chooses to disrespect me with hasty curses and flippant disregard.

 “Fine.” I mutter, removing my knee from her back.

 Her head lifts as I toss the paddle to the edge of the bed. Her shocked eyes are glossed over, dark makeup smeared about her lids. Strands of hair are matted to her flushed, tear stained cheeks, but I force myself not to be swayed by her pathetic appearance. There will be a time when I can take her into my arms and care for her, but now is not the time. 

 Pinning her with a dark, even stare, I reach down to quickly unbuckle the belt at my hips. Her eyes dart from my gaze to the motion of my hands and I see the emotion already beginning to twist her mouth and brows.

 “But, Liv…” She whines, her watery blue eyes meeting mine again. 

 “Don't.” I shake my head, beginning to pull the belt from the loops.

 “Please…” Her voice cracks into a full on plea, a tear spilling her cheek quickly. 

 Taking the buckle in hand, I wrap the smooth leather about my knuckles and stretch the length out between my hands, eliciting a sharp crack. 

 She flinches, a cry jumping to her lips. Her eyes race from the belt to my gaze and then back again, and I know she's searching for some fallacy in the determination of my actions. She's looking for some way to manipulate my pity, but that only tells me that she is still far from release.

 “Please, I said I didn't want it.” She cries, her arms straining.

 Her panicked gaze follows the movements of the belt in my hand, but I know she's only desperate because she wants to escape the punishment of the belt, not because she's ready to submit.

 “Don't speak.” I order, stepping forward to drape the belt across her quivering ass. “I don't want to hear it unless it's your safe word.”

 I can see the tears welling quickly in her eyes before she turns her face away again, and it hurts me to know that she's putting herself through this for the sake of her ego. 

 I have brought her to the brink of release with much less than this before. Once, she even invaded my office, crying and desperate, trembling and falling over herself to lie across my lap. I didn't even have to spank her bare skin to initiate her complete collapse. Just the reassurance of my palm striking her had been enough, but now she would rather take a whipping than trust me. 

 I wanted so much for this evening to be a gentle but firm guidance to relief, but now I'm forced to use this discipline as an actual punishment. 

 I drag the belt back, squeezing the buckle in one hand and the midsection of leather in the other. The lip dangles from my fist as I pull the buckle end tight around my hand. 

 “I'm going to count,” I say in a low tone, “so you'll remember how many spankings you thought being disrespectful was worth the next time you think it's appropriate.”

 “Olivia, please…” She sobs in a muffled tone into the pillow. 

 The miserable notes of her pleading hardly sway me. In fact, I'm even more peeved because I ordered her not to speak.

 “I told you not to open your mouth.” I say, my tone dipping into the low gravel of displeasure. 

 She sobs before her face plunges deeper into the pillow, muffling desperate then angry cries as she wavers between repentance and rebellion. 

 I don't delay any longer.

 I adjust my position next to the bed, testing the angle of my strike with a soft slap of the leather against her ass. She jerks despite the most gentle motion she's received tonight, but I don't intend to follow it with anything less than harsh, burning discipline. 

 The first lick makes her entire body go rigid as the crack of it resonates across my ears and the impact that shudders through my hands cuts straight to my aching core. 

 She teeters on the edge of pain before she releases a cry in burst of emotion, her body sinking into the sheets. Her sides expand sharply and I can hear her panting. 

 “One.” I murmur, squeezing my perspiring palms about the leather. 

 A half second passes and I can see her tensing in apprehension, her arms and legs quivering. Her ass is completely red and swollen already and the beautiful yet devastating sight of it nearly takes the air directly from my throat. 

 I need her submission just as much as she needs my domination.

 Drawing back the belt, I let her tremble in sharp anticipation for a moment longer before I strike her, cracking the length of leather across her backside.

 “Two… “ I breathe, the thickness of arousal clogging my throat.

 She arches into the bed, and I can hear her desperately trying to choke down sobs, striving to mask her reactions when all I want is to gorge my ravenous body upon them. The hunger inside me roars at even her slightest quiver or cry.

 My hands tremble around the belt and I clench them sharply, driving my need into the brutal lash of the belt. 

  _Crack!_ The belt curls across her burning flesh.

 “Three.” I rasp, my breath rattling rapidly from my lungs. 

 God, how I wish I could turn her over and spread her legs apart. How I wish I could plunge my fingers into her sweet, gushing pussy or suck the wetness from her lips straight to mouth…. But this moment is not for me to take. No matter how sick I feel with the force of this desire, my role is her protector first and her lover second. 

 Reigning myself in, I whittle my focus down to the precision of the belting and the buck and clench of her body. She needs to feel control from me, not an ounce of recklessness.

 Four, five, six, seven… The words fall from my lips, barely rising above the pound of blood in my ears. 

 She stretches, arches, and twists against her bonds, her ass rising up to greet the belt before dipping back sharply, her choked, wavering cries winding deep into my soul like some kind of sweet, forbidden liquor. 

 Her flesh blossoms with lilac and indigo bruising before her cries begin to form words.

 “God, please…. _please…._ ”  

 Her face is buried between her arms, her hands clenched into tight fists above her head. The rest of her body is just as taut. 

 Pleasure thrums through me at how well she's taken it so far but her pleading draws me back to a level headspace, and I have to blink back the haze of desire that’s clouded my vision. I ordered her not to speak, to take the consequences of disrespect in silence. 

 I lower the belt and lean on one knee at the edge of the bed in order to bend over her trembling body. 

 “I told you not to speak.” I whisper in her ear, lifting one hand to run my fingers through her hair. 

 I drag sweat soaked strands away from her temple and cheek, tucking them behind her ear. Her eyes glance over at me quickly and I can see how red and swollen her eyes are. She sniffles softly. 

 “Please…” The whimper emits in a small whine.

 “I need to hear your safe word if you need to stop.” I murmur, leaning in to kiss her hot flesh at her temple. 

 Even after sweating and exerting herself strenuously for the last hour, she still smells like a sweet piece of heaven.

 I can hear her breathing rapidly, haltingly when the soft sobs still threaten.

 “I know you don't like to give up.” I whisper, gently, “But I want you to seriously consider your limits because I can be far from done if you continue like this.”

 She sniffs sharply and turns her head face away from my mouth, tempting me to lick her with the belt again. I stay my hand, however, knowing that it will take more than a moment for Amanda to give up. 

 Finally, she lays her head against the pillow.

 “Peaches.” She mutters, her tone utterly grudging, but I can hear the tremor lying behind layers of cynicism.

 “Okay…” I murmur, tossing the belt to the ground beside the bed. “For tonight…”

 She visibly relaxes against the bed, but I strain to hide my disappointment. We hardly achieved what I started off to accomplish but I console myself with the fact that tomorrow is a new day. 

 I lean back and begin to untie her from the headboard. Her slender wrists are red and raw from fighting the restraints and I take them in my hands and impart a kiss to each one before sliding away to her ankles. 

 When she's loose, I slide one hand up the back of her leg, slowing as I reach her inner thigh. I squeeze the warm flesh and I hear her breathe sharply. Her legs inch apart, allowing me to slip my fingers up to the heat at her center.

 My exhale catches as I feel her wetness slicking her thighs and I brace my other hand on the bed as I press my eyes shut. Control dances on the fringes of my mind, teasing me and I take several long breaths to still the rampant desire plowing through me.

 When I open my eyes, I reach determined fingers up between her legs.

 She won't like me after this, but it's what needs to be done in order to break her. 

 I drag my fingers up against her swollen, dripping labia and she parts easily to the pressure. I hear her gasp as two of my fingers probe her entrance, seeking against the clench of her body. My own body pounds relentlessly and I can even feel pre-orgasmic tremors clinching me tight. I breath out, holding onto my control with a vice grip as my fingers sink into her. She's like velvet around my digits, so hot and unbelievably wet. 

 “Ohhh….” She shudders against the bed, her hips arching back slightly against me.

 “You're not going to come.” I whisper lowly as I draw my fingers back in an achingly, slow thrust.

 “Wh-what?” She pants, sounding delirious with pleasure.

 I seat my fingers deeply into her with short, firm motion causing her thighs to tense around my hand and a moan to shudder from her mouth.

 “You're not going to come.” I repeat, slowly. “And you're not to even _think_ about touching yourself when you're alone.”

 “Olivia…” Her voice is barely a whine.

 “Don't argue.” I murmur.

 I fuck my fingers into her at a slow pace, listening to her wetness gush from her against the motions of my hand. I can feel her quiver inside, but I'm not giving her nearly enough for her to explode.

 She moans, pressing her face to the pillow. Her hips wriggle against my hand, and I know it must be torture for her to lie here and feel my hand inside her without the relief of impending orgasm, but that is the point. If I wanted her to be comfortable, I would have laid the belt down earlier, gathered her in my arms and then given her what her body desires most.

 “Ending tonight does not mean that this is over.” I tell her, softly. “I'm going to take care of you, but tomorrow… I won't hesitate to drag you back in here.”

 She stills, her whimpers ceasing at my threats. 

 I slide my hand from her body and ease up onto the edge of the bed. She doesn't move when I sit down next to her and rather turns her face more sharply away from me.

 “Look at me.” I order in a gentle, non abrasive tone.

 She hesitates but finally shifts, rolling onto her side, facing me. Her beautiful, tear stained face comes into full view, her cobalt eyes staring up at me sharply like fresh cut rock.

 “Amanda…” I whisper her name, infusing the passion she makes me crazy with into each syllable.

 I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead and her cheek and jawbone.

 “Your trust….I want it so much… I'm not even sure you understand.” I murmur.

 She doesn't reply, but I don't hold it against her. I know she'll need time to come down from this, and I will be there with her to the end. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ ~~~Amanda~~~~ _

The precinct bathroom is cool compared to the suffocating humidity that seems to clog the squad room outside and I breathe it in sharply. Maybe it was just my own mind playing tricks on me, but I couldn’t stand another fucking second of being in such a stiff, professional atmosphere… All those people looking at me, talking to me… I felt like I was crawling in my own skin...

My heart is racing with relief as I find the small room empty, leaving me mercifully alone. I rush into one of the stalls and slam the door shut, rattling the entire structure. I lean against it, pressing my sweating forehead to the cool, metal door.

My self control is hanging on by bare threads. I can feel each tiny fiber snapping slowly, one after the other.

_ Get it together. Come on. _

I press my forehead against the door again, lightly, although what I really want to do is slam my brain into the unyielding surface, if only to escape these thoughts.

It’s been barely ten hours since I was lying across the bed in Olivia’s bedroom, stretched out and tied down for what seemed like hours. Ten hours, and all I can remember is the way she stood over me or leaned against me, the way she punished me relentlessly…. God, the way she touched me…

Everything within me had wanted to break, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t shatter into pieces and watch her pick them up one by one. I couldn’t because I don’t trust myself to be that vulnerable and I don’t trust someone else to be so reliable and devoted. Even after all of the times that I’ve allowed myself to spiral into the safety of her arms, I’ve never thought that I could let her break me completely.

But I know one thing about Olivia that won’t fail and that is her determination.

I swallow hard against encroaching tears as I tap my forehead against the door once more. 

She’s not going to let me out of this one no matter how much I fight, no matter how much I curse and kick and scream. She will force me over that bed for the rest of my miserable existence if that is what it takes, but I know in my heart that I would never last so long, and I’m fucking terrified. My body is aching still, and my strength of will struggling to recover.

It’s been ten hours and I throb for her still.

“God…” I groan, quietly, feeling tears prick at my eyes.

I’ve never believed in a higher power, but this wretched desire inside me makes me wish for some gracious being to relieve me of my suffering.

I’m so fucking terrified, but my agony doesn’t end there. It ends in the distant throb between my legs, at the very crux of my being where my body aches hotly, remembering the touch of her fingers inside me. The whisper of her voice haunts my most wanton parts.

_ You’re not going to come…. You’re not going to even think about touching yourself when you’re alone…. _

But, Jesus Christ, have I thought.

I’ve spent every waking moment thinking of when I can earn the blessed touch of her hand again, and when I began to realize the way I must break in order to do so, I imagine disobeying her again. Illicit fantasies of fucking myself raw in mere rebellion pulverize my brain, encouraging me to ignore the consequences that I have barely escaped.

If only she could look inside my head right now she wouldn’t hesitate to punish me for my wrongdoings.

Pushing away from the door, I turn about in the tiny stall, running my fingers through my hair. I try to breathe, clenching locks of hair tightly in my fists, enticing pain to burn into my scalp.

“Jesus, fuck…” I rasp, leaning my back against the door.

My knees are quivering, and my heart is knocking. Arousal chugs thick and hot through my bloodstream, invading my thoughts even as I try desperately to right them.

My clothing seems to scrape across my flesh and I can feel my wetness soaking through my panties from simply considering masturbation and the subsequent release.

Tilting my head back, I let my hands slide from hair as I gaze across the ceiling tiles. They seem to twirl in my vision and I clench my eyes shut, pushing against my urges.

I’ve already been inside the bathroom for a good five minutes, and I should be leaving already. I should be enduring the agony of the work day instead of remaining here in the inviting arms of temptation… But I just can’t seem to force my legs to follow the desperate commands of my brain.

I open my eyes and glance down at my body, panting with every dull throb that passes through me. I lift a trembling hand, sucking in a breath as I touch my belt buckle. The cool metal is sharp against the heat of my flesh and push my thumb against the leather. My other hand rises slowly, pulling back the lip in one rigid motion. The belt releases and I let husky gasp as the button of my jeans stares back at me, begging to me.

“Fuck…” I murmur.

I ignore the warning sirens blaring through my head in exchange for the heady call of my body, pleading for release. I move faster, suddenly, tearing at the button, dragging the zipper down with quaking fingers. It’s good enough.

My stomach seizes with pleasure as I push my fingers beneath the waistband of my panties, plunging my hand into the hot alcove beneath my pants.

“Ohhh…” My voice rises, echoing sharply against the bathroom walls as my fingers brush my clitoris.

I bite down on my lip, pressing my mouth shut against further urges to vocalize as I shove my hand deeper. My fingers dip into the wetness soaking my panties before curling up against my labia. I want to gasp at how slick I am, but I clench my jaw tight, dragging my fingers through the abundance of moisture.

Heavy breaths blast through my nostrils and I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears. My oversensitized body is already screaming for relief and I know it is right there in the power of my own fingertips.

I press my fingers up against my clit, rubbing directly over the engorged flesh. I need it quick and hard, before my bathroom solace is invaded or I come to my own senses, although the latter is highly unlikely.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I work my hand quickly beneath my pants, my entire body straining for the orgasm as each torturous second passes. It’s so close. Each touch is like fire, every circle threatening to push me to the edge.

A sudden creak cracks my concentration, jarring a gasp from my mouth. The sound of the door opening fully dawns upon me, but I can’t seem to move fast enough as I try to yank my hand from beneath my panties. My watch gets caught on the waistband and I can feel myself panicking.

_ Click… click...click… _

The sound of a pair of heeled boots hitting the tile floor crashes against my ears as I manage to extricate my hand. My fingers are trembling so hard that I can barely pull up the zipper on my jeans.

I’m fumbling with the button and the belt when a quick rap of knuckles on the stall door brings my motions to a shocked halt. I can hear my heartbeat banging against my ears, choking my throat. A sick feeling erupts in the pit of my stomach and I know I should be pulling my clothes together, arranging my face into an innocent facade… but I just can’t fucking move.

“Amanda…” Olivia’s voice cuts sharply across my senses.

_ Oh, god…. _ The thought trails through my mind as my lids flutter shut.  _ No, it can’t be…. _

She knocks again, jarring my eyes open. I can see her fingers curl over the top of the door, ready to pull it open when I turn the lock. I consider never opening it, but that presents an entirely new set of problems. If I refuse to come out, I’m already suspicious, but, god, she might already know. Either way, I can’t spend the rest of the day locked in the bathroom.

I reach out a quavering hand, and turn the lock slowly, my stomach swimming with apprehension.

The door swings open, guided by her hand.

Her body fills the frame and the look in her eyes makes me want to sink into the ground and cease to exist. Staring back at her, I think she must already know what I was doing.

She steps forward, crowding into my space, suffocating me with smell of her perfume, the mere aura of her presence. I step back, but there isn’t many places to go into my tiny prison of lust.

She eases the door shut behind us, locking us in together.

When she turns, her eyes are dark in the shadows of the stall and I can feel her picking me apart with her very gaze, digging beneath the surface of my skin to my very soul.

“Give me your hand.” She murmurs, her voice low but firm.

I shudder, pressing myself back against the wall. I can feel tears burning in my eyes and I press them shut, determined not to cry at the simple request.

“Amanda.” She says, her tone warning.

“I’m sorry.” I moan, covering my face with both palms.

I feel her fingers wrap around my wrist, almost gentle and I let her take my hand. I turn my face away, gulping back tears as she takes my fingers and brings them to nose. I want to rip my hand away, to hide the evidence of my pleasure from her, but it’s already too late.

“You were touching yourself.” She states, her tone even on the surface, but I can sense her anger and disappointment lying just beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry.” I repeat, feeling a tear streak down my cheek.

“Did you come?” She asks, stiffly.  


“No…” I whisper, my cheeks flushing sharply.

She releases my wrist and I pull my arm back quickly, cradling my hand against my chest as if her fingers have burned me. I can barely look up at her because I know what I’ll see in her gaze, and it makes me feel so horrible inside to do this to her.

“Turn around.” She says at last, her voice low.

“What?” I whisper, my body jolting at her implication.

I finally glance up at her with wide eyes, hoping to find some error in what I had heard, but the dark set of her brows and lips don’t lie. I know what she wants.

“I said turn around.” She motions towards the wall, “Right now.”

“B-but…” I choke out, cowering against the wall. “You can’t be serious.”

She takes a half step closer to me, her eyes narrowed as she says, “If you can touch yourself in here I can most certainly punish you in here.”

My eyes dart around the tiny stall, but I know there isn’t a way out. There is no choice in this situation but to comply. Fighting will only produce and even bigger chance of drawing someone else’s attention.

At last, I turn slowly, my limbs numb. My mind is racing, humiliation burgeoning up from inside me, but a part of me knows how much I deserve this.

I press my hands against the cold tile as she steps up behind me and begins to open the buckle and button that I had barely managed to close but a minute ago. I can hardly breathe as she yanks my pants and underwear down to my thighs, leaving my ass bare to her eyes and her touch.

My flesh is still tender and swollen from the night before and I know that any kind of punishment is going to hurt much worse than it normally would. I pray that she won’t rip my own belt from me and lash me with it, though we both know it wouldn’t be beyond the necessary discipline.

She grabs my arm, pulling her close to me so that her mouth is next to my ear.

“This is going to be a reminder,” She whispers in a low tone, “Tonight… when we’re alone… will be the real punishment.”

Her threat brings sharp tears to my eyes and I bite back a pitiful moan. She’s not going to have mercy on me for even half a second and extending myself into hysterics will only worsen my situation.

Her palm strikes me, suddenly and hard, causing me to bite my lip. I arch against the wall, swallowing back a cry as the pain reignites across old wounds. It stings sharply as if she has already laid a dozen or more across my tender flesh.

Breathing heavily, I try to remain still. After last night, my desire to fight her is hanging by a string and right now, I’d rather have the torture of her touching me than the torture of her absence.

Her fingers flex around my bicep, pulling me close as she spanks me again.

“Nnnnggg….” I can’t hold back the low moan that filters through my lips but she doesn’t quiet me. Instead, she strikes me again, harder. I arch rigidly against the wall, my fingers scraping over the grooves in the smooth tile as I balance on my toes to escape the burning sensation.

She pulls me back again, her grip harsh and unyielding as she lays a fourth smack on top of my bruised flesh.

I try to hold back my soft cries, but each smarting slap jars another from throat, humiliating me even further. My face is flushed and hot with embarrassment and I wish I could just escape, but her strong fingers hold me grounded. Even when I squeeze my eyes shut, I can’t drift away from this moment.

She says nothing as she holds me steady for a fifth, stinging punishment. Unlike last night, she is silent, but the power of that reticent anger shakes me more deeply than anything she could’ve said.

Her hand falls faster and harder causing me to writhe against the wall after each biting lick of her hand, but she never lets me go far. Her sharp, steady breathing accompanies me through each swat as does the grip of her fingers at my arm.

My swirling mind counts somewhere between ten and fifteen spankings before the bathroom falls silent. For a long moment, neither of us move and the only sound is my halting sniffles and gasps.

Finally, she pulls me around, her gaze burning me. Spanking me doesn't seem to have dulled the wrath simmering just beneath the carefully placed veneer of control and my stomach swan dives at the thought of spending the rest of the day knowing that punishment is coming.

“Don't make me do that ever again.” She says, her tone low and steady.

She releases my arm and turns about, her long, dark hair whipping about her shoulders as she yanks the stall door open and marches towards the exit.

A moment later the door slams behind her, leaving me quaking and alone, my backside humming with dull pain. Her sweet citrus scent lingers in the air about me, joining the emotion in my throat to choke me.

Tears sting my eyes sharply, humiliation throbbing gently in my cheeks and chest.

My hands tremble as I pull my pants up slowly. The buttons and buckle swim in my vision as I manage to dress myself completely before sinking to the closed toilet.

Covering my face in my hands, I feel the emotion swell like an incoming tide through my chest and throat. My shoulders quake as I try desperately to hold in the insistent tears, but soon my choked cries echo softly back at me.

If I wasn't ready to break before, maybe I am now. Maybe I'm breaking in this moment without her here to even comfort me. The very through sends a harder shudder through my body, pushing a fresh deluge of tears to my eyes.

It occurs to me slowly that she was right all along. This devastating, overwhelming emotion has been gliding just beneath the surface and now she's wrenched it to the light of day. All that is left to do is trust her to take me the rest of the way, and maybe there was never any other choice.

~~~~~

I don't need orders to direct me through the gates at the front of Olivia's apartment, nor a guide to lead me down the hall and to the door. The entrance gapes back at me like magnetic oracle.

I don't need her to tell me what to do, but a trembling piece of me almost desires the low rasp of her voice in my ear and the unyielding grip of her fingers on my body.

I'm so close after hours of torturous waiting, watching the clock, biding time…. I've spent the last eight hours in agony, my mind constantly turning with twisted fantasies of what will become of me once night falls. My stomach has ached and turned for every minute of the day while somewhere down below a simmering desire waits to explode.

My fingers are cold and trembling as I reach the door. I know it will be open. It's always open when she's waiting for me. She will make me come to her, walk all the way to the bedroom and undress in front of her…just watching with those unrelenting, dark eyes.

Swallowing against thick saliva, I squeeze the doorknob in my trembling fist, turning it slowly.

My stomach swoops and dives, my heart knocking against my ribs as I push inside. 

It's dark but I know the layout well.

Closing the door behind me, I lean up against it for a long moment as my eyes adjust to the dark.

I can hear my breath rushing loudly in the silence, filling my ears with the sound of desperation. A whimper wants to escape my mouth at the very thoughts of my fate and clench my teeth against the accompanying tears. I can't cry already.

Pushing away from the door, I head towards the bedroom, winding my way around the recliner and into the hallway. The door is slightly ajar, inviting me with a soft light.

I know I'm safe here, but the very thought of walking willingly into that room and accepting what she wants to do to me scares the hell out of me.

Swallowing once more, I take slow steps towards the door, my knees quaking. My fingers skim over the door, pushing it open slightly.

The room yawns in front of me, dark aside from the lamp on the bedside table. The bed is neat, the covers turned back, waiting for me.

I clench my hands into fists as I enter, passing over the threshold in one uneasy step.

My eyes find her in the shadows, sitting in the same chair as last night. Half of her face is hidden in the darkness, but her eyes sear me, no matter the distance or lighting. Her elbows are propped on the arms of the chair, her knees spread a foot apart. My breath catches as my eyes detect the glimmer of leather in the light, dangling from her fingers. The snake like strap lays across her thighs, gentle enough to anyone's gaze but mine.

I stand just inside the doorway, frozen, barely breathing.

For a long moment, we look at each other and I know she's waiting for me to move, to do as I know she wants.

At last, she sits forward slightly and her voices cut across the room.

“Amanda, you know what to do.”

I press my eyes closed, suck in a trembling breath. Tears, that bastard friend of mine, rise close to the surface.

“Take off your pants.” She murmurs, softer now.

I don't need her to tell me, but, god, the assurance of her voice is all I want.

Lowering my head, I uncurl my fingers and move the stiffened extremities to the front of my pants. I dressed simply, just to avoid the over complication of undressing that I know would only serve to humiliate me further.

In one quick yank, I'm naked from the waist down, trembling and vulnerable to her eyes.

I can barely glance up at her, but I see her brows rise slightly at my lack of underwear, but I can also detect the approval in her eyes.

“Take them all the way off.” She orders, motioning to the pants crumpled around my ankles and shoes.

Breathing irregularly, I push my shoes off with my toes and kick away the pants. At this point, I can obey without too much hesitation… I can still pretend that I'm in this room for her pleasure...I can push the punishment towards the back of my mind…

I hear her rise from the chair and walk towards me slowly and I stare at the ground. My eyes burn into the carpet pattern, my stomach churning a knot up into my throat.

“Look at me.” Her voice rattles my senses.

I bite down on my lip, conjuring the will to lift my chin just a couple of inches, but I can already feel tears flooding to my ducts.

“Amanda.” She murmurs, touching my jaw.

I huff out a quivering breath, and barely glance up at her for half a second.

“You need to look me.” She says, her voice firm.

Her fingers at my jaw tighten, pushing my face upwards despite my resistance. The intensity of her eyes meet mine, far too close for me to be able to withstand.

“I want you to know I've thought about this for a long time.” She begins, her eyes never leaving mine.

A sob threatens deep in my chest and I suck my lower lip into my mouth, begging myself to have self control for one fucking second.

“And I also want you to know that I'm very disappointed...I didn't withhold pleasure from you to push you into other avenues of gratification. I wanted to make you come to  _ me _ .”

Her brow furrows and I can see the disappointment and anguish I've caused her lying just inside the windows of her eyes and my heart squeezes sharply. I thought I had suffered the most today, but perhaps I was mistaken.

“I want you to trust me.” She murmurs, her clenched fingers loosening from jaw to slide up into my hair. “When you're in need… I want you to find yourself here, but I want you to also trust me to find that need before you find it yourself.”

I try to look away, to hide the tears blurring my vision, but she drags me back with a hand at my cheek.

“Don't look away from me.”

I blink quickly, feeling tears escaping from the corners of my eyes even as I try to suck them down. I manage to look at her, but the emotions in her eyes makes me want to crumple down into nothing. I am so far from deserving her devotion.

“I know you think this is going to be quick and hard.” She murmurs, her tone low and even. “But I don't think that's appropriate.”

My stomach twists sharply at her words, apprehension cutting quick through my chest. Immediately, my mind is racing, my pulse thrumming quick and shallow in my neck.

_ What are you going to do?  _ The words don't make it off my tongue.

She let's go of my face and her palm slides down my arm, gripping my elbow. My legs feel wooden as she pulls me back towards the chair. Once we're within two feet of it, she releases me and sits back down.

“Turn around.” She motions with one long finger.

My heart thuds dully in my ears and I can feel the hot flush of humiliated arousal reaching my groin. Despite the apprehension swirling in my tummy, I know that whatever she has planned will destroy me emotionally and physically.

I turn slowly, feeling both numb and oversensitized. The room stretches out in front of me, and I immediately realize the sharp desire to see her. I groan inwardly, knowing I gave up so many chances but a moment ago to look into her eyes, gaze upon her beautiful face and now I will have to do with the dull landscape of walls and carpet.

“Now….” She says slowly, “Kneel.”

_ Oh god….. _

I press my eyes shut, fighting against wave after wave of embarrassment and resistance. A part of me wants to run from this room while I rest lunges towards the floor, ready to spread myself out for her.

“Do it now or I’ll start with the belt right away.” Her tone is promising and I don't doubt her.

My legs tremble as I lower myself to the floor, finding the carpet stiff beneath my knees. The submissive position burns me, but I just keep my eyes closed, try to hold myself together.

Silence hangs between for a long moment before she delivers another damning command.

“Bend over….I want your face on the floor.”

“Olivia…” Her name twists from lips, an automatic plea.

The pieces of me that want to obey her are stretching thin and the strain of it forces another rush of tears to my eyes. I want her so much, but I know my own selfish desires have pushed us here. My utter fuck up and the ensuing consequences, however, doesn't exactly knead compliance into my stiff body. My languishing, conceding thoughts from the bathroom in the aftermath of the spanking are but a fleeting memory in the face of degradation.

“I want you to obey.” She responds, sharply, “No questions… No negotiating.”

A cry bursts from my lips and I hang my head, staring desperately at the blurry, tilting floor beneath me.

She wants things from me that I’ve never given to anyone. She wants me to free fall, but I can't.

“Amanda…” She says, slowly, her tone warning.

“Why don't you just do it?!” I burst out in a sob, throwing out my quivering hands.

My heart races in my chest, my face and neck throbbing with the force of my distress.

“You're questioning me again.” Her voice rises and I flinch at the frustration lining her tone.

I hear her breath out, a low steady sound and I cover in my face in my hands, trying rub the tears from cheeks even as more spill from my lids.

“I want you to bend over.” She repeats in a slow, precise tone and I can just imagine the way her brows are furled and the sharp set of her lips and jaw.

I pant, breathing around choking emotion as I will my body to either obey or to fight, but I'm caught somewhere in the middle.

I hear her push up from the chair and I instinctively turn towards her as her boots hit the floor, distinct and angry, rattling into the floorboards beneath the carpet.

She looms over me, her face shadowed with disappointment and frustration, something I've seen far too much of the in the past 24 hours.

“Get up.” She snaps, firmly taking my arm.

_ Why can't you just fucking do it? _ I berate myself as I pull myself up from the floor, miserable tears streaking down my cheeks.

She pulls me sharply against her, her breath rushing over my lips like a phantom caress, but her next touch isn't so tender.

She spanks me without preamble, her hand striking across my flesh, unremorseful. I cry out, jarring away from her, but her grip is strong, unyielding. Tears are quick to rush down my cheeks, although I'm not sure the pain is so much physical as it is emotional.

“I told you not to make me do this again.” Her voice is biting beneath the huskiness of her tone, cutting the guilt deep into my chest.

With her fingers taut about my arm she spanks me again, the power of her hand resonating through layers of my skin, setting my bones on fire. She doesn't hesitate to brand me over and over and each one falls like the hammer of  judgment upon me, threatening to split me in two.

My hips arch and squirm as if to escape, but there is no where to go and she won't let me me stray far.

I've hardly taken ten when the emotion rips louder from my throat, releasing in a strangled cry. Utter frustration and pain push me to yank against her, but my helpless blubbering makes the display more pathetic than anything.

Her hand stills but she doesn't release me. She silently watches me, her fingers tightening with each pull of my arm against her.

I know she's waiting for me to break and the uselessness of this expended emotion makes  collapse come even quicker. I sag against her, panting and sweating, tears trailing down my cheeks and neck. My futile cries of resistance dwindle into nothing more than whimpers.

“Are you done?” She asks.

Short sniffles and cries trail from my lips and I nod slowly, my chin dragging against my chest.

“Good.” She murmurs, her hand sliding down my arm slowly. “Get back down on the floor.”

I sink immediately, my trembling knees giving way. The floor greets me and I fall to my hands and knees, hunched over. My hair tumbles over my shoulders and around my face, a curtain for my shame.

“All the way down.” She encourages softly.

My elbows collapse against the carpet and I lie my head down, pressing my forehead into the ground. Tears slide down my nose, melding into the carpet fibers.

She has me where she wants now and I can feel the stray thread of my dignity and resistance snapping beneath the pressure. I want to break beneath the bittersweet guidance of her hand but I know that means surrendering my self control and nothing has ever terrified me more.

“That's good.” She murmurs, her footstepss oftening as she steps away from me.

I can hear the creak of the chair as she takes a seat again, directly behind me. My cheeks flush hot in the cradle of my arms as I feel the burn of her eyes over my exposed flesh and privates, everything laid bare to her. As strangely erotic as the sensation is, I can't help my clench my thighs together, arching away from the vulnerable position she's put me in.

“Don't hide from me.” Her voice washes over my ears, singeing my flesh and causing me to whimper.

Another wave of tears clenches my throat and I try to suck it back but I can hear the pathetic noises slipping from my throat as the long seconds pass. Each tick of the clock grates across my senses, reminding me that I have already spent countless hours today agonizing over the impending punishment and the fact that she would drag it out even longer now terrorizes my brain.

“How do you feel?”

The inquiry is gentle, but I can't take it as anything other than one more jab to myself control and humiliated state of mind. I can hear myself panting rapidly, the blood rushing in my ears as I struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“Amanda…”

“Peaches!” I burst out, sobs immediately choking me.

Emotion I've withheld from myself collides in my chest, wrenching sobs from my throat as I scramble off the floor, my legs trembling like gelatin.

“Amanda.” I hear her concerned tone as she rushes up from the chair, her motions much quicker than my tripping and stumbling.

I feel her grab onto me but I flail, shoving her away.

“I said peaches!” I nearly scream as I spin around to face her.

I'm sure I look like a mess, sweating, flushed and puffy from crying….like shit.

“Amanda.” She touches my arms gently, though I know she wants clench my flesh into the unyielding grip of her hands. Her face is taut with concern, her copper eyes wide, pupils pulsing.

“I heard you…” She whispers, attempting to pull me in. “I hear you…”

“I don't want to be here.” I sob, yanking away once more to snatch my pants from the ground. “Just let me go.”

“Amanda, you need to let me perform aftercare.” Her voice is soft but firm, and would've typically broken through my hysterics but my only focus right now is to get away from this bedroom, away from the terrifying possibilities that lie within.

“I don't have to do anything.” I pant, trembling as I shove my feet into the pant legs, uncoordinated.

“You don't need to leave.” She insists, although she doesn't touch me again. “I know you're scared…”

I shake my head, barely finding a voice to answer her as I button my pants and shove my feet into my shoes, but I don't use the last of my strength to form a response.

“Amanda…” She murmurs, and I can hear the strain in her voice now. “You're safe here, remember?”

“No…” I sniffle, shaking my head once more. “I just need to go right now. Please don't stop me.”

I turn away from her glistening amber eyes before she sucks me back in and I charge towards the door. Blind with fear, I'm on the sidewalk before I can even comprehend making it through the apartment and front door. The cool night air kisses my flesh, drying my tears as I take myself as far as I can get from the apartment, and away from the threat of trust and surrender.


	3. Chapter 3

_ ~~~Olivia~~~ _

It's late when Amanda trudges into the squad room the next morning. I can see her through my office window entering from the elevator her head down. A pair of dark sunglasses cover her eyes, but I can sense her gaze flick in my direction as she sits down at her desk.

I immediately feel concern, and deep inside, a sense of guilt. I don't truly believe that my actions were wrong; rather, they were necessary, but it doesn't stop me from feeling the clench of pain in my heart when I remember the way she snapped. She chose to trust herself once more rather than me, and I wonder if there was something I could've done differently last night that would've led her to safety rather than fear.

I fold my hands tightly against my mouth, watching her discreetly through the blinds as she removes her jacket and then the sunglasses, her head still lowered, but even at this distance I can see the look on her face.

I breathe out and lower my forehead to my hands, massaging the pain between my brows. I search for the calm, the reassuring confidence that allows me to rise from the desk and go out to her. I can't let her think for a moment that I've given up on my quest for her trust. She's had the night to think and to rest, and I can't allow my own pity to ensure her escape deeper into herself.

Placing my hands flat on the desk, I rise slowly, gazing out the window. As if sensing my intentions, her arctic blue eyes shift upwards, meeting mine. I release a slow breath at the emotions churning in her gaze, and push back the weakest of my desires to coddle her.

I clench my hands into fists and round the desk, striding towards the door. I take my eyes from her for a second, and in those few moments, she's bolting. I yank the door open to see her back, her blonde hair billowing at her shoulders as she marches towards the back of the squad room. I lengthen my steps, praying common sense will break her first. 

We reach the hall leading to the bathroom and our footsteps echo over the tile as we find solitude. She hits the bathroom door at a near jog and despite not wanting to chase her, I break into a run to catch the door before she can slam it behind herself.

She spins around I yank the door back, impeding her escape.

“Stop this.” I pant in a low tone as I step inside and lock the door behind us. “Right now.”

It's ironic that just yesterday we were in here, playing a much different game than the one she wants to pull now.

She doesn't say anything. She turns away and leans in the sink counter, her hands covering her face. I can see her shoulders beginning to shudder and my frustration immediately caves beneath the weight of her distress. I went hard at her last night, but I can sense she needs a softer part of me in this moment... so I give in.

“Amanda…” I sigh, stepping up behind her.

My heart aches for her. I want so badly to take her away from here and properly care for her, but I know can't. I have other responsibilities, and the fact that she can't be my number one priority for the rest of the day crushes me inside.

She releases a soft cry as my hands touch her sides and my body presses gently to her back.

“Don't do this.” I whisper, dipping my head into the golden locks of her hair. “Don't run from me.”

“I'm scared.” She whimpers, sucking in a shuddering breath.

“I know…”

I wrap my arms slowly around her waist, pulling her back against me tightly. I take her wrists and pull her hands away from her face to wind her fingers in mine.

Looking up into the mirror, I find her watery gaze.

“I know you're scared.” I murmur, forcing the knot in my throat back although even the slightest quiver of her lips incites sharp emotion in my chest.

“How could you possibly know…?” She asks, her soft brows furling.

“I know it right now...looking into your eyes and wondering if you'll return to me.” I murmur, clenching her close.

Her body is warm and soft, and the feeling of her wrapped up in my arms is the most overwhelming happiness I've ever known, but it can't be complete when she's rigid and terrified.

“You're scared?” She asks with a thick swallow.

“I am.” I nod, though I try to ban the tremble from my tone. “I don't want to hurt you...I want to help you...I want to see you blossom beneath my hands-”

I break off to heave a breath against the crushing emotion, to bolster my strength.

“I'm sorry.” She whispers, her own voice close to cracking.

I squeeze her against me again and lay a kiss to her shoulder.

“I know you are… And I know you're terrified to let me take the control from you. You're confused and anxious...but, Amanda…” I gaze back up at her, clutching her hands in mine. “I want to strip away your fear...not your dignity or your self worth.”

She glances away from me as a tear breaks from her eye. I can feel her quiver in my arms, her chest heaving with tears, but it only drives determination sharper through my heart.

“I want you to go home, Amanda.” I whisper, tugging her around.

She turns to face me, her glittering eyes gaping at me like an open, stormy sky. 

“B-but…” She begins to protest and I lift a finger to her quivering, stuttering lips.

“You need some time off.” I say with as much gentle authority as I can. “I want you to go home and think about you and us...and then tonight we’ll talk, okay?”

She sniffs and lifts a hand to wipe the tears from cheeks.

“What will you tell everyone else?” She asks, her tone raspy from tears.

“You need some personal time.” I say, petting a hand over her cheek. “They won't pry.”

She nods slowly, gazing downwards.

“What about…” She clears her throat, biting at her lip. “Am I still in trouble for...you know…?”

“I still have to punish you if that's what you mean.”

She nods once more, blinking quickly. I can see her jaw clenching against emotion and I lean in to kiss her forehead.

“We're going to do it right this time.” I murmur against her hair. “I promise.”

She nods a third time before pulling away from me. I let her go though my hand trails down her arm as she turns towards the bathroom door. She departs silently, leaving me staring at my own reflection in the mirror.

The woman gazing back at me seems much more poised and authoritative than I feel, and I suppose that's for the better.

We can only be as strong as our weakest moments and all I've ever wanted is for us to be powerful… God, how I want it….

~~~~~~

I ask Lucy to stay the night with Noah at my apartment hours before leaving the precinct. I know it's going to be a long night and I'm going to need all of my focus and attention to go towards Amanda. As much as I miss my son I know that I will see him tomorrow and I will find some way to make it up to him.

I check my watch and then my phone as I ride the elevator down to the street.

It's 9:45 pm.

I haven't received any messages from Amanda and I'm not sure whether that's a good or bad sign.

I send a quick text to her, letting her know I'm going to be with her soon. Shoving my phone into my pocket, I release a deep sigh and pray that time away from me and from a stressful environment has worked in both our favors.

It's been a painful day. I despise unresolved conflicts hanging above my head, but we could both stand to learn some patience and longsuffering. I cannot rush Fate's timetable, no matter how desperate I am to have her back in my arms, soft, sweet and blissful.

Opting out of the bustle of the subway, I take a cab to Amanda's apartment, using the time inside the quiet, dark backseat to gather the swarm of butterflies hovering in my stomach, and to release the tension clenching my shoulders and temples.

No matter how long I prepare for these moments, I'm not sure I'm ever truly ready. Her fear last night is nothing foreign to me. In fact, the very first time she came to me I found myself trembling afterwards, my hands ice cold in the terror of what I'd thrown myself into. If only she knew how much I understand the fear lacing her veins, I'm not sure she'd run so diligently from me.

When the cabbie pulls up, I quietly thank him and pay before stepping out onto the sidewalk. The cool night air greets me and I suck a lungful in deep before breathing out as if to rid my chest of uncertainties. I need to discard them now because once I am inside there will be no room for self doubt.

Squaring my shoulders, I march up the front steps and ring the bell. I almost surprised at how quickly she buzzes me in, but I take her eagerness as a good sign. I truly believe she's ready tonight.

I take the stairs upward, my set of keys already clenched in my hand but when I reach the door, she's already easing it open.

Our eyes meet through the crack, and I can see the hesitance dancing in her gaze. I pray her fear has subsided and that this meek stare is nothing more than a product of typical apprehension.

“Amanda…” I murmur as I squeeze the door knob, inching the door open wider.

Her head ducks and I can see the shimmer glazing over her eyes at the slight provocation.

“Oh, Amanda..” I sigh, pressing forward.

She allows me to enter and I find my heart rattling in my chest and my hands eager to find her body soft and compliant beneath my touch.

I reach up to touch her, my fingers tangling her disheveled blonde locks, and I pull her in. She collapses against me immediately, her flushed face digging into my neck as she grabs onto me. Her fingers scrabble over my sides and back, desperately seeking assurance across the fortress of my body.

“I'm here.” I murmur, clutching her against me. “I won't let you go.”

I stroke the back of her head and press my lips to her crown, feeling her quiver in the circle of my arms.

“Olivia…” Her voice is mangled with tears and emotions and her plaintive cry only makes me squeeze her tighter to my breast.

“I'm here, baby.” I repeat, softly, planting kisses across her temple and forehead.

“I didn't think I could make it.” She groans, her tone raspy. “It was so hard waiting for you.”

“I know…” I whisper, stroking my fingers through her hair, down her back.

“I'm so scared….” She trembles.

“Don't be afraid.” I murmur. “I only want to take care of you.”

“I know… That's why it's so terrifying.”

I nod against her head and pat her back slowly.

“I understand, but I promise you I won't let you fall.” I whisper, huskily, daring to show her the emotions bursting from my chest. She must know it's safe to release here with me when I am just as overwrought.

She sucks in a quivering breath and pulls back to look up at me with watery eyes, the blue of them swimming like a stormy sea.

Clutching the lapels of my blazer, she says, raspy, “I want to trust you...I won't run this time.”

I brush a hand over her cheek, gathering the tears from beneath her eye as I smile gently at her.

“I'm proud of you.” I whisper against the emotion clutching my throat. “Let's go to the bedroom, okay?”

She nods, ducking her face into my hand and nuzzling her nose against my palm. She breaths deep and I can hear the fear still trying to overtake every fiber of her being but I believe in the strength inside of her. I trust the power of my own hand, but more than anything I place my deepest faith in the chord of love that forever strikes courage through my body and mind.

I slide my hand from her face and take her hand. Her grip is trembling but tight as I pull her towards the back of the apartment.

Once we're inside, I close the door behind us and direct us towards the bed. I come to stand behind her, my hands settling on her hips.

“I'm going to take off your pants,” I murmur, slow but steady, “then you're going to lie down on your face.”

She nods and I hear her breathing, sharp and quick, but I can't hesitate. She needs a strong, firm guidance now.

I slide my hands to the front of her body and pull open the fastenings of her pants before hooking my fingers in the waistband. She releases a heavy, choked breath as I push away the barriers of material and stitching.

“Shh….” I hush her as I slide her pants all the way down. “Lie down.”

She stumbles forward, seemingly desperate to splay herself out for me and I have to clench down on my control at the sight of her laid out, naked and trembling. The delicate flesh of her buttocks is still marked with splotches of bruising and I know how I’m going to have to destroy her once more.

Standing above her, I pull my jacket off of my shoulders and toss it to the side. My eyes roam of her quivering body as I begin to slowly unbuckle the belt from around my waist. I catch her glance darting over her shoulder as the leather trails from the loops and dangles from fingers.

“Are you going to…” Her husky voice catches.

“Shhhh.” I hush her as I step closer to the bed. “Close your eyes.”

She trembles, but obeys, her face lapsing to the sheets. Layers of soft, blonde hair fall in shifting, shimmering waves over her flushed cheeks and quavering lips and nothing makes me want to be more tender.

I slide onto the bed next to her and skim my fingers over her back in a gentle glide, watching her flesh shiver with goosebumps.

“I'm going to take care of you.” I murmur, bending down to kiss the dip of her spin, and the inviting ride of her tailbone.

She breathes out slowly, her fingers flexing around sections of the bed sheets. I know she must be combating every instinct to fight me, and I infuse the sweetest love into the press of my lips that is possible, hoping that she will feel the safety of my presence in every single nerve ending that meets my warm touch.

She's come to me, penitent and obedient, and now I must show her that her trust in me is not unfounded. I don't regret punishing her in the bathroom, but she needs a different approach now, one that both rewards her change in behavior and satisfies the need for discipline.

Lifting my head, I spread my hand over her back again.

“Come here.” I murmur, pulling her close.

She immediately shifts closer to me, eager to touch, to connect, to bury herself in me through this. She lays her body willing across my thighs, burning an explosion of satisfaction and desire though my center.

She's come this far to me, and now I will carry her through.

I tighten my languishing fingers around the belt in my hand and wrap it tight around my knuckles until there is only enough length to stretch across her buttocks.

I can feel her rigidly trembling against me and I slide hand up to the back of her head, petting softly.

“I want you to remember this is because you specifically disobeyed me.” I tell her, keeping a low even tone. “Not because I'm disappointed in how you reacted last night, or the night before.”

She nods raggedly against the sheets, a short confirmation, and I hope that she truly does hear me.

“Good.” I murmur as I reassert my hand to her back.

There isn't room for anymore hesitation.

I drag the belt once across her buttocks, and feel her tense against me, but it only takes me half a second to deflect the the yearning for pity in my heart.

I lash her hard. No holding back. No second guessing.

She lurches beneath me, a muffled cry rising a half a second after the shocked silence, but I have her close for more than one reason. I haven't forgotten how her tiny body can rival the strength of my arm even when she's compliant.

Grabbing onto her opposite hip, I hold her steady for the second spanking across the rosy, lower half of her cheeks.

Her hips arch down, thighs clenching together sharply as she releases a strained groan through clenched teeth. Her head ducks and she pants heavily, driving her ass back up to me in a desperate presentation. The beautiful, submissive display leaves me choked with arousal and burning passion, pushing me to act once more.

I push my knee up between her hips, and my hand into her back, forcing her to remain arched as I crack the belt against her freshly bruising flesh once then twice.

“Oh-oooh….” She cries out, choking over the pain as her hips automatically try to shift away.

“Stay up, sweetheart.” I order, my tone raspy and breathless, though I manage to hide the tremble in my hands.

She pants around tears, her elbows and knees digging into the bed as she pushes back up. Every inch of her is quivering, but she obeys readily. She must be aching, and yet she doesn't fail me.

“That's my good girl.” I praise her, huskily as I drag her close.

There's hardly a second between approval and punishment, and I hope she's torn through and through by both as the judgment of the belt licks her flesh once more.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

She barely makes it thought the fifth before she's crying out, arching down into my knee. Loud, wrenching sobs sway my stalwart stance, but I only press my eyes closed for a moment, my hand never leaving her back.

I pull her in and lash her once more, laying the punishment harshly across already angrily red and throbbing flesh.

She lunges against my hold, though I don't take it as resistance. I fully expect her to cry and thrash. It needs to hurt this badly for her to find absolution through this punishment, and for me to accept her penitence; and we are finally almost there.

I squeeze her close with my arm nearly wrapped around her waist as I drive us into the final stages of punishment, and the commencement of this three day struggle for release and submission.

We're both panting, sweating, and though my moans are far from matching hers, I find myself  crying out with each lash of the belt, desperate and overwrought vocalizations that tear from my throat with fiery vehemence.

There's sting of tears at my eyes and the thick fist of emotion in my throat, and I don't dare to push them away as I rise above her, to obliterate the final tatters of her self control and awareness. I want her breaking down; I want her ripped from the tethers of every single doubt; I want her uprooted from everything she thinks she knows about herself; I want her vulnerable to the invasion of my body into her with resistance but a faded memory.

She takes every single lash, her bucking and struggling lapsing into nearly nothing as she sobs fervently into the sheets, long, gasping cries that signal her release.

Panting heavily, I throw the belt away from me, thrusting the leather from my sweating palm. Perspiration lines my entire body, heat creating a single, throbbing beat inside of me. All the while, my eyes ache with unshed tears as I spread myself over her. Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her onto her side, and press myself to her back, molding us into identical fetal positions.

“Olivia…” She whimpers, her voice small and lost.

“I'm here, baby.” I murmur, pressing my lips to her cheek and I hold her close. “You're safe.”

She's trembling and my body shakes in return like the beginnings of a volcanic eruption. My heart races steadily through breast to her her back where the heat of our flesh culminates.

“Olivia….” She moans once more, her voice wrought with tears but rising in intensity.

“I'm here.” I repeat, clenching her tight.

“I need you…” She whines, her tone breaking.

I press my face down against her neck, breathing heavily. My fingers slide down her chest, seeking the edge of her T-shirt. I drag up the material, touching the bare flesh of her quivering stomach.

I ache to touch her, and I grasp at the bare threads of better judgment. She's still raw and crying, and I need to claim this moment for reconciliation and bonding, but, God, how I want to fucking touch her. Three days have left my desires painfully dry like a barren wasteland, and I yearn to quench my tongue on the oasis of her body.

She feels me quiver against her, my fingers scraping hungrily over her flesh. My thirst, my need is oozing from me, and I can barely stop it from spilling over her weak, vulnerable frame.

“Don't stop…” She moans, though I can hear the tears still mutilating her tone.

“Amanda…” I pant into her neck, my hand stretching down her belly into soft, curling hair between her hips. “Oh...god…”

“Fuck me…” She rasps, uncurling one leg and parting her thighs to my wandering fingers.

“I need to take care of you…” I whisper, hollowly, even as my fingers reach the heat emanating from her center.

“Fuck me.” She repeats, her voice husky and trembling. “Break me with her fingers.”

The power in her voice shakes me, forcing a volatile shudder through my entire body.

“Amanda…” I repeat, clenching my eyes shut as my quaking hand cups her wet, aching body.

She inhales sharply, her hips thrusting forward into my hand, and I squeeze my fingers tight, breaching the opening of her. We both moan softly and I pull her back against me quickly, dragging my fingers up against her clitoris.

“Ahh…” She cries out, her back arching from my chest, digging her ass back against me.

I can hardly still the tremble in my arm but I find the strength to assert my fingertips directly against the throbbing, swollen bud and circle sharply.

“Yes, oh….” She breathes, her voice quaking as she parts her thighs wider to the touch of my hand.

A tense quiet takes over the room as I rub burning friction into her flesh. I can feel her clitoris swelling beneath my fingers, rising to the raw tension. She's rigid, barely breathing, and I find my own low grunts locked behind my tightly clenched teeth as I force her to the edge of orgasm in what feel like mere seconds.

She comes hard, bucking between my body and my hand, though I know escape is far from her mind. She claws at my arm around her chest, and her feet kick across the mattress before she finally cries out, ragged and long.

I hold her tight, rubbing her hard until she starts to come down, but her blood is in the water now. I feel blind with the desire, and the wild, primal beast inside me begs for the sacrifice of her body on my hand again and again. I'm throbbing hard between my legs, soaking through my panties, and I know it would drip to my thighs if I but removed these useless cloth barriers.

I pull away from her, rising above her quaking body on my knees as I begin to tear my shirt from my shoulders.

“Turn over.” I order as I see her eyes flutter, wantonly gazing up at me.

She doesn't even hesitate and her steadfast obedience and hunger for me infuses even deeper arousal into my bloodstream.

I nearly rip the button from my pants and wrench the zipper down in my hurry to be skin to skin with her. I push the sopping panties from my hips and kick everything away into a pile on the floor as I find her naked and bent over for me once more.

I grab her hips and pull her up on her knees. My breath is nearly taken away from my lungs when I can see her pussy swollen and dark pink between her thighs. She's dripping wet for me, her lips open and begging for my fingers inside of her.

“Jesus….” I vaguely hear myself whisper as I squeeze her hip hard.

Her own fingers are clenched in the sheets, her sides expanding sharply as she waits for me to fuck her. She asked - no, demanded - that I break her and she isn't doubting that I will do anything less than destroy her.

I drag my fingers directly across her pussy, gathering the gushing wetness of her along my digits before I find her entrance. I barely hesitate to fuck my fingers straight into her, stretching her immediately with the breadth of two of them.

“Oh!” She cries out quickly, her back arching as she nearly pulls away from me.

I can almost imagine exactly how it feels, having her fingers push into my over sensitized body with barely a preamble. I quiver and feel the gush of arousal at my own center at the simple fantasy of having my own body mercilessly fucked.

I lean in closer to her, my hand sliding up her side to the mess of hair at the base of her head. I tangle my fingers into the soft locks and I clench them tight as I pull her back onto my fingers.

She moans out once more and I can almost hear the shudder of tears in her voice. They must still be stained and wet on her cheeks and I sense that the line between pleasure and pain is as much a blur to her as it is to me in this moment.

There will be no pleas for mercy tonight, no safewords. We're far beyond boundaries and limits. We're somewhere in the stratosphere, in a mindless, desperate coupling.

I fuck her hard, dragging her back into place on my fingers every time she dares to claw away from me. I hold her down with the weight of my body and hammer my fingers straight against every tender pleasure point inside of her.

She bucks and screams beneath me, barely able to take the pleasure that I force into her aching body, but I only stop to push a third finger into her. At this, she cries out louder, her voice breaking into a sob as I thrust them into her, quick and hard.

I purposefully keep her from orgasm, fucking her so deep and relentlessly that the pain of it is just enough to distract from the pleasure that's overwhelming her senses. I know she's so over sensitized that her body must scream with every touch. My fingers are too much across her raw, aching flesh, shoving so deep that she arches away, but she won't escape. She won't even try.

I don't let her her move until she's sobbing beneath me, deep, gasping cries that let me know that she's reached breaking point.

I don't want to stop, but I have to. I have to give her just enough to bring her desperation, and no further.

Finally, I pull back, and grab her knee. I flip her over, finding her face flushed, her hair matted to her tear stained cheeks.

I come down upon her, hungry to have the last of her resistance as a feast on my tongue.

I drop to my knees on the floor and pull her sharply to the edge of the bed. She cries out as immediately latch my mouth to swollen, aching pussy.

“Fuck!” She nearly screams, her heels digging into the bed, her hips twisting against my face.

“Don't fight me.” I order, my voice emitting low and ragged and I pin her hips down to the bed.

“Ohhh…” She moans, lifting her hands to cover her face as she squirms her hips down against my chin.

“That's good, my baby.” I whisper, rubbing my thumbs over her protruding hip bones in slow circles. “You know mama will take care of you.”

She whimpers into her palms, nodding slowly. She doesn't have a voice to answer me, but I don't need her to speak anymore.

I lower my mouth to her again and suck her clitoris in slow at first. Her hips seize against my hands but I have already preemptively clenched down on her squirming body. Holding her still, I begin to drag my tongue against her full, thrumming clit.

She hardly makes a noise, but within moments, she's grinding into my mouth, rather than away from me. She grows wetter and wetter on my tongue, and I know she's close. I don't delay to assert my tongue against her clit in a way that pushes her towards orgasm and soon she's rocking against me, panting and grasping for the pleasure.

She comes again, crying and clawing at my hands, shoulders, and hair. Her hips charge up against my mouth, but I don't let her throw my mouth off of her. Squeezing her hips hard, I scrub my tongue in hard, full circles against her clit, elongating her pleasure until she has nothing left to give.

Finally, she sinks down against the bed, her limbs weak and splayed across the disheveled sheets. She's panting heavily, soft whimpers and moans filtering from her lips, and I can see the aftershock of intense pleasure still quivering across her flesh.

I climb back up onto the bed and gather her into my arms. I cradle her to my chest, her mouth to my breast like a child because I know she's small and fragile right now.

We don't speak for a long time though my body aches to find the same pleasure and abandon that I've brought so diligently upon the woman in my arms.

But I am a mother.

I am a caretaker.

And my needs are nothing compared to hers. To me, she is much more important. She is my life and my love and deserves my undivided attention and care.

Three days have passed, and the road was long, hard and tumultuous, but lying here with her soft and needy in my arms, I can't say I would change anything.

This wasn’t easy. Some parts weren’t enjoyable; in fact, they were terrifying and heart wrenching and frustrating, but this quiet, blissful moment overshadows every strife and conflict that led us here. No, it wasn't easy, but it's never nothing with the one you love. It's everything.


End file.
